Bad Moon Rising
by MeanieFace
Summary: "We cannot build the future by avenging the past." - T. H. White (Sarah/Jareth AU)


_ "God is love, the bishops tell._

_ Yes I know, but love is hell."_

T. H. White ("All For Love")

Chapter 1: The Wolf And Mr. Morgan

Sarah Williams looked up at the white sky through her windshield with dread.

"There is _no way_ this is happening right now."

When the snow started falling a few hours ago she thought nothing of it. This was a northern mountainous area, and it was the end of October. Of course it would snow a bit. It soon began to build, however, mad flurries falling in all directions, heralding a bad storm. Now It was Nine O' Clock at night, and her view was becoming too obscured to be safe.

Sarah continued to drive her poor beat up car at a slow crawl; her face practically plastered to the windshield so she could prevent driving herself off the side of the road into the dark unknown.

The radio never said anything about a snow storm this bad. She could barely see five feet in front of her. How was she even going to make it to the next populated area, let alone all the way to Aunt May's?

Aunt May had taken off to Canada years before Sarah's birth and had stayed ever since. Sometime during her stay there, May had gotten into 'new-age' philosophies, declared herself a pagan and sequestered herself off into the mountain wilderness to be more 'attuned with nature'. Sarah's father Robert had attempted a few times to make the trip out to her home at Crowsnest Lake so young Sarah could spend a little time with May, but since their family had always been devoutly Catholic, the siblings' relationship had become somewhat strained. Over the years they made the trip less and less. Sarah had only been to Aunt May's house a few times when she was small.

When Sarah did get to see Aunt May, she felt a kind of kinship that she rarely experienced. Robert had never really understood Sarah's love for the strange and fantastical. Aunt May, however, was rather eccentric and given to wild tales and flighty behavior. Aunt May only encouraged Sarah; tried to make her feel less awkward. _The Goddess sees much in you, Sarah_, she used to say. The grand and exciting tales May told her had stuck with Sarah for years, fueling the young girl's impressionable and seemingly never-ending imagination - much to Robert's distress.

Years passed without a word spoken between her father and Aunt May. Sarah had given up hope of seeing her Aunt ever again. This year, however, May had inexplicably invited them over for the Yuletide/Christmas holidays.

It was a grueling three day drive from Piermont, New York to Alberta, Canada, and her father did not want to pay for multiple plane tickets to go see a reclusive sister who he had not spoken to in years. Karen wasn't interested in going, either. Sarah, however, missed her aunt dearly, and what better excuse for a twenty two year old college girl to get some freedom? She called up Aunt may and told her she wanted to come for Thanksgiving, too. So on October 29th Sarah packed her bags, grabbed up some of her savings, and kissed her family goodbye for the holidays.

Now here she was, cold, lost, and alone on her very first road trip.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

She hit the steering wheel for added measure.

She was supposed to be on Crowsnest Highway, but there had been no land marks for hours now. What road she could see was made of dirt. She continued to glare out at the snowy expanse of road before her. The monotonous visual constant of evergreen trees in the darkness was already slightly disorienting, she really didn't need the blinding snowstorm on top of it all.

She slowed the car to a stop and pulled her crumpled map viciously out of the glove compartment._ Should have gotten a GPS like Dad said_.

She followed the route she had taken with her finger and quickly realized that she had taken a wrong turn about an hour ago. This was somewhere else; she might be in the _middle_ of Crowsnest Pass. Some dirt road off the map. She was driving on an _uninhabited mountain road_, for God's sake.

She lowered her forehead to the steering wheel and let out a deep sigh. She would have to turn around. There were no roads ahead that she could turn off of and find civilization. The only way forward now was to go back.

She stretched her limbs and groaned, preparing herself for a few more hours of monotonous driving.

Sarah put the car back into drive and precariously turned the car around. Ready to continue, she took her eyes off the road to put the map back into the glove compartment.

When she looked out the windshield once more, she was startled to see light on the side of the road up ahead. She was sure it wasn't there before. It was far enough that it was obscured by the falling snow, but it looked like a gated driveway.

_There's not supposed to be anyone living on this part of Crowsnest Pass_. Sarah's brow furrowed in confusion.

_Maybe whoever lives there won't mind me camping out until the storm passes. They probably deal with that all of the time in this kind of place, right?_

More hopeful than before, Sarah moved forward towards the driveway, then parked and exited her car, leaving behind the toasty warmth of the interoir.

The gate was an imposing iron monstrosity; ancient, rusted and sharp. The spiked top was more warning than welcome. There was no lock.

Two identical and bizarre canine-looking gargoyles sat atop worn stone pillars; bookending the gate. One pillar bore a glowing candlelit lantern, and underneath there was a name placard that was covered in snow. She put her hand in her coat sleeve and used it to brush the snow off. Written underneath were the words "Morgan Estate" in elegant calligraphic letters.

From what she could see, beyond the gate stood an enormous Victorian style manor. It looked like it was once white, but age had darkened it. At the rundown look of it, she would have assumed that it was long abandoned, but then who had lit the candle lantern? She put her face closer to the bars of the gate and squinted her eyes, trying to make out signs of life. Upon closer inspection, she could see that the front windows glowed with the warmth of what looked to be firelight.

This place was certainly big enough for a spare room.

Sarah pushed forward through the gate; wrapped her arms around herself to fend off the cold, and crunched forward through the snow.

The paintjob on the front doors was cracked and peeling, and what paint was left was dingy. The windows of the house were a dusty brownish grey. It looked like they had never been cleaned. Who lived here? Why didn't they take care of the outside of their home?

Two brass doorknockers hung on the doors. Both were as ugly as the two identical canid gargoyles from the gate, but these two differed from each other. One had a rounded face and its ring looped through its ears, while the other had a longer face and kept its ring in its mouth.

She picked the long-faced one and knocked three times.

Sarah watched her breath puff in the silence for what felt like ten minutes before she heard something stir from within.

The large door creaked open loudly, and a man appeared from the threshold.

His face was both strange and beautiful. He looked to be about forty or so, with high aristocratic cheekbones and sharp eyebrows. He was blonde and blue eyed, though his eyes weren't symmetrical - one pupil was noticeably larger than the other. He was dressed in all black clothing.

He seemed upset at an intrusion upon his home, and he moved to speak, but stopped short when he focused on her face.

He looked at her like he was looking at a ghost.

He seemed to pull himself together, and his face returned to the same stern expression.

"…Can I help you?...How did you find this house?"

Sarah realized embarrassingly that she had been staring. The man remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

"Um…I um…I'm very sorry to disturb you. The snowstorm has gotten really bad, and I…uh… don't think I can drive safely anymore-"

A Terrifying snarl interrupted her stammering, and it made Sarah scream and jump about three feet into the air. A large dog poked its head through the door from beside the man, attempting to snap at her. _No._ No it wasn't a dog.

"What the hell! Is that…is that a _fucking wolf?!_"

The man pulled back strongly on the collar _(The collar!_) around the wolfs neck.

"_Get down,_ Ambrosius!"

The wolf whined and skulked back into the warm room behind the door. The strange man turned back to her.

"Oh, do forgive me, love. He's not fond of strangers."

Sarah gaped at the man.

"That…That was a _wolf!_"

The man smirked at her behavior, obviously amused. "Yes, indeed it was. You were saying about the storm?"

Sarah shook her head vigorously. "No, you know what, no. I'll take my chances on the road. I'm good. Thanks anyway, Mister…" Sarah remembered the name at the gate. "-Morgan, I guess is your name. Bye."

He frowned and she hurriedly backed away to leave, but he quickly grabbed her arm.

"You know as well as I that the storm is much too dangerous for the trip down the pass. I know you need shelter. Old Ambrosius is nothing to be afraid of; He guards the estate. I have him under my control. You are most welcome here, my dear."

His words were an invitation, but his authoritative tone made her go still, and she looked at him warily for a moment.

He continued. "And of course, there are the other wolves-" Sarah's eyes widened, and she pulled her arm out of his grasp. "-But they are just as tame as he. I am a highly skilled master. You have nothing to fear. And would you rather put your life on the line in the storm, or stay with a man who has had many a year to learn how to properly look after himself around trained animals?"

Sarah grimaced, but she could see his point. At least she could see a wolf coming, and a good sturdy guest room door would keep them out. A fall down a steep hill in a car was more likely to be inescapable. And a car without enough gas would not protect her from the deathly cold for very long.

_This guy may be…eccentric, but there are plenty of people who train wolves, right? The wolf in there listened to him when he sent it away. _Sarah nodded to herself.

"Alright Mr. Morgan. You don't have any more nasty surprises in there, do you?"

He smirked again, and Sarah felt a chill go down her spine despite herself.

"No, of course not, love."

The foyer was surprisingly warm and inviting. The décor was rather antiquated; Thick drapery adorned the windows in deep burgundy and gold. There was a table in the middle of the room that had an empty vase atop it. The table was an antique, but it was more opulent than what one could normally find in your average antique shop. _Maybe the furniture was inherited along with the manor_, she speculated. Overall, the interior of this man's home was nothing at all like one would expect from looking at the manor from the outside.

There were no electrical lights. Every light source she could see was either oil or candlelight. Even the small chandelier above the table had individual candles that had to be painstakingly lit. Sarah found that peculiar, but considering this place was owned by a man who lived in a manor in the middle of nowhere and kept wolves in his house, she wasn't really all that surprised.

'Mr. Morgan' closed the door behind her. The loud _thunk _and _click_ of the door had an undertone of finality to it.

"Do make yourself at home, love. Relax in the living room, and I'll fix you some leftovers from dinner."

Sarah smiled in relief. She didn't realize just how hungry she had gotten.

He held out his hand to take her coat, and she pulled it off of herself and handed it over. "That would be great, thank you-"

Sarah stopped short.

"Oh, wait! I'm so sorry. I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sarah Williams."

She held out her hand for him to shake, and he smiled and dipped a slight courtly bow.

"I am Jareth Morgan. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Williams."

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Sarah smiled and shifted her feet uncomfortably, pulling her hand away gently. She discreetly wiped the back of it on her jeans. _Just another of his quirks, I guess._

"Go sit by the fire. You'll feel much better, I'm sure."

With that Mr. Morgan walked away, her coat under his arm, and disappeared into a doorway to the left, likely to get the dinner he promised.

The foyer opened up into an expansive living room. Tall bookshelves filled with old books lined two of the walls. Opposite the entrance from the foyer a warm fire was blazing in an oversized stone brick fireplace. Above the fireplace hung the emptied and stuffed carcasses of multiple animals; the head of a deer; antlers impossibly large. A few fowl. Sarah looked away in disgust. Two lounge chairs and a small table were set in front of the fire.

Below the table, laid out on the plush fur carpet, were the wolves.

Grey wolves are bigger than your average dog. One could look at a wolf and immediately see the difference from a dog; wolves don't look like domestic animals at all. A person instinctually reacts to the presence of predators like these; a roiling dread deep in one's stomach. Sarah had never been this close to _one_ wolf before, let alone _three_. How could someone keep them like they were pets? The largest one, the one Mr. Morgan had called 'Ambrosius', had a grey and white coat, with a bit of mottled brown in spaces. One that laid closer to the fire had a coat of all black. It was the smallest of the three. The remaining wolf was predominantly grey. All three were looking at her.

Sarah waited a few minutes, staring at the wolves in silence. The wolves continued to stare back.

Mr. Morgan returned with a hot bowl of stew, bread and cutlery on a platter in one hand, and a bottle of wine under one arm. Two wine glasses and a cork remover were held in his fingers. Sarah immediately felt relief at the presence of another person in the room.

He placed the dishes down on the table for Sarah, but he kept the bottle of wine and the glasses. He then walked over to one of the overstuffed lounge chairs and threw himself into it; one leg thrown over the arm. As if he had no company at all.

He gestured in the direction of the lounge chair opposite his.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

The wolves were still looking at her. Sarah did not move.

Mr. Morgan quirked an eyebrow and laughed.

"Now now, dear. There's nothing to be afraid of, watch. Come here, Ambrosius."

The wolf he called 'Ambrosius' huffed, got up and walked calmly over to his master, brushing his head under Mr. Morgan's outstretched hand.

He looked at her again and smiled, amused at her fears. He stretched his other hand out towards her, gesturing for her to come closer.

"N…No. I just…I can't, please." Sarah took a small step back.

"Oh come now, Miss Williams. A girl like you afraid of a tame wolf? Where is your sense of adventure?"

Sarah glowered at that challenge; at the insinuation that he knew anything at all about her, and Mr. Morgan's smile was all teeth.

" I promise he won't bite."

_What's wrong with me? When I was younger I used to be so carefree. Nothing could scare me. When did I get so cynical? _Sarah stood straighter and thought about Aunt May. _The Goddess sees much in you, Sarah._

Ever so slowly, Sarah inched herself closer towards the wolf and Mr. Morgan. She leaned over and held her hand out in front of her; her fingers barely brushing the wolf's soft fur.

Confident that the wolf would not strike out at her, she softly began to pet the back of its neck.

"There now. That wasn't so bad, Hmm?"

Sarah smiled in relief. "Yeah. Wasn't so bad." Ambrosius turned to lick at her hand, and she giggled at bit at the feeling.

Sarah walked over to the unoccupied plush lounge chair and sat down. She could handle this.

"So, Miss Williams. I am curious to know, what exactly brings a young American girl all the way out to Crowsnest Pass in the middle of autumn?"

Sarah picked up her fork and popped a warm potato into her mouth. She took the time to chew and swallow before she began to speak.

"Well, my Aunt May lives down near Crowsnest Lake. She invited me over for Christmas, so I told her I'd make it a big trip starting with Thanksgiving. I figured I'd stay from then 'til new years. Then I need to go back for the new semester."

"The lake? You're a bit off course, dear." He rolled up his sleeves and started to uncork the wine bottle.

The bottle opened with a pop and he poured her a glass, then proceeded to pour his own.

Sarah snorted, taking her glass from him. "Yeah, I know. Damn snow made me lose my way. I promise I won't be in your hair for too long, Mr. Morgan. Just Until the snow clears."

"Oh, you're no trouble, and please, call me Jareth." He ran his fingers through Ambrosius' fur.

Sarah smiled warmly at his kindness and sipped her wine. "Sure thing. You can call me Sarah."

He looked her in the eyes and grinned behind his wine glass.

"Sarah it is, then."


End file.
